


Not A Victim

by BloodyMary



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars: Rebellion Era - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Grandma Stormslayer, also banthas, don't mess with granny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-08
Updated: 2016-12-08
Packaged: 2018-09-07 08:41:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8791024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BloodyMary/pseuds/BloodyMary
Summary: Sometimes, Stormtroopers come knocking on the wrong door.





	

Illyria’s bones ached. They had been doing so for the last decade every morning. But the farm wouldn’t run itself and she had some life in her left, so she wasn’t about to laze about in the sun like old Widow Malshe—the useless biddy.

 

She stopped for a moment and rubbed her hip, just as something white by the gate caught her eye. She squinted slightly and the white shape resolved itself into a group of Stormtroopers. Unconsciously, Illyria fingered the content of the large pockets in her apron. There wasn’t anything special in them—just some cleaning powder and baking soda.

 

 

CA-456 had been a fanatical idiot. Everyone had known it and no one had ever said it aloud. There wasn’t anything wrong with being patriotic, in Sergeant Dawnchaser’s opinion, really, but there was no reason to be _stupid_ about it. The Emperor wouldn’t care if some old crone sent ten eggs to processing instead of eleven.

 

But somehow, the damned egg had become a sign of sedition in CA-456’s brain and the idiot had attempted to hit the old woman. She ducked and the next part was something of a hazy blur in Dawnchaser’s mind.

 

The woman threw some sort of powder into the air, just as CA-456 shot. Then, he and KK-681 were engulfed in a small fireball. The old woman rolled away and rose, her apron on fire. Her short white hair was almost like a halo around her head and her expression… Dawnchaser briefly remembered a statue of some war goddess in a temple on Alaris.

 

Then, something let out a horrible noise, and he caught the sight of a girl, maybe ten, opening a gate. The next thing he knew, a herd of enormous wooly creatures was heading towards him.

 

 

Illyria touched her side gingerly. Her ribs were feeling a bit tender, though not nearly as bad as they had when a bantha had decided to kick her twenty years ago. She looked around—her house was still standing, but the herd was trampling all over the nearby fields.

 

Then, her gaze fell to the bodies in white armour by the road. There would be more coming. No one liked when soldiers went missing on easy missions. It meant someone needed to train them better—and train new ones too—and both were expensive.

 

She turned around and found Ashan and Kyrri already behind her. The twins were holding hands, their little faces solemn. It was then that Illyria made her choice.

 

“Get your siblings. We’re joining the Rebelion.”

 

 


End file.
